


Not What I Expected

by lazyrobokitty



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyrobokitty/pseuds/lazyrobokitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarn's left to deal with an emergency and Pharma is bored. I wonder what surprises he'll find in Tarn's novel collection?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What I Expected

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this otppromt from Tumblr: Imagine B finding an erotic novel in A’s bookshelf. While A is busy, B lays on the couch and starts reading it. The novel is a little boring at first but then, B starts to get aroused as they keep reading.  
> (http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/128926839051/imagine-b-finding-an-erotic-novel-in-as_)
> 
> Thanks for reading! This is my first Tarn/Pharma fic, and its damn time I wrote about the OTP. ouo

Was this what his life was now? Something to be summoned and then ignored on a whim. Letting out a sigh of frustration, Pharma continued to pace around Tarn’s rather large and luxurious room. The _Peaceful Tyranny_ itself was hardly a beautiful ship, its hallways were dark and unpleasant and her crew wasn’t all that much better.

Indeed, at first, he’d hated coming here. If it weren’t for the increased risk of bringing the DJD straight to Delphi’s door he would’ve demanded they meet there, but bringing bored and often irritated Decepticon’s to his clinic was out of the question. So he’d gone about it the way he always had, he’d adapted. He was professional after all, the best of his time, and there was nothing he couldn’t handle. He certainly would not be intimidated by the likes of the DJD.

So outside of their weekly t-cog meetings, Pharma had originally endeavoured to keep as far away as possible from both the _Peaceful Tyranny_ and the Decepticon degenerates it harboured, but it proved more difficult than he’d originally anticipated. True most of the DJD were irritatingly stupid, perfectly symbolized by the Decepticon insignia stamped on pretty much everything around them, but there was something different about Tarn. At first he’d assumed he’d be the worst of the bunch, and to some extent he was. He was a brutal, lumbering, Megatron worshipper who craved t-cogs harvested from other bots, and that appalled the medic. However, as time had gone on, he’d discovered there a was a little more to him than that. Tarn was highly refined, even in his brutality, and while all his dedication was directed at Megatron, there was no doubt that he was a determined, and dedicated bot. Admirable traits to be certain, but it was truly his artistic tastes that had intrigued Pharma. After his fateful discovery of Tarn’s seemingly endless poetry collection (only a portion of which had been Megatron’s, thank Primus), he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued. Add that to the DJD leader’s fine taste in energex and Pharma had agreed, somewhat warily, to a poetry evening.

Everything had simply flourished from there. One meeting had turned into another, then another, until the line between ‘undesirable but necessary business’ and his personal life had become blurred, if regularly interfacing with one of the most feared Decepticon’s in the universe counted as only blurred.

Tonight Tarn had invited him over, only to leave shortly after he’d arrived, claiming it was an urgent matter and leaving him to entertain himself. Had he known this would be on the agenda he would’ve stayed at Delphi. Harvesting t-cogs wasn’t an activity that filled him with excitement, rather a requirement that allowed him and his facility to carry on surviving, but it was far easier to accomplish when he wasn’t being dragged away from his usual duties just to sit around on his own and do nothing. If this was Tarn’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny in the slightest.

Growling impatiently, he came to a halt next to one of Tarn’s many bookshelves. To the Pit was he going to just stand around waiting all evening. If the DJD commander couldn’t be here to entertain him, even after summoning him, he’d entertain himself.

Optic scanning the rows of datapads in front of him, he slowly and carefully quested for something to read. He’d quickly learnt after a few poetry sessions where he kept Megatron’s delightful literature, and avoided it, at all costs. Ooh the things he’d done over the years, the things he _initiated_ , just so he wouldn’t have to listen to Tarn recited every word in Megatron’s ‘Towards Peace’ manifesto for the entire night.

After a while, one particular datapad stood out to him. He wasn’t sure why but made a grab for it regardless, lifting it off one of the higher shelves to get a good look at it. ‘ _Undercover Lovers by Firewing_ ’. He’d never heard of Firewing before, and he knew many of the authors in Tarn’s collection. Now he really was interested. Powering the datapad up, he found it already bookmarked at least halfway through the story, meaning Tarn had to be reading this one currently. Frowning, he glanced over at the tank’s desk; spotting at least two other datapads already out of their place. It was unlike Tarn to put a datapad back before he finished it. Tapping across to saved section, suddenly very eager to solve this little mystery, he started reading nosily.

“O-oh my,” it didn’t take him long to realize exactly why Tarn was broadcasting this particular novel. Pharma had never assumed Tarn would enjoy erotic novels, and as someone who’d never particularly cared for them himself he’d never bothered to ask.

But there was something oddly…intriguing about finding something like this in Tarn’s collection. Backing up, he sat down on the commander’s over-sized sofa, settling himself in to read.

And that’s how Tarn found him. Engrossed in details of the two leads fragging each other’s brain modules out – for the third time no less! – his fans whirring softly as his frame heated with arousal. Perhaps not his proudest moment, but when he finally noticed he wasn’t alone and looked up at the tank…he looked anything but disgusted.

“Well, well, I never took you as a fan of Firewing’s work, dear doctor,” he could hear the smirk in the commander’s voice, only making the medi-jet blush harder.

“I’m not, I didn’t even know this bot’s work before I found this on your shelf,” Pharma tried to sound nonchalant as he put the datapad down, but the hiccupping whirr of his turbines gave away his shameful arousal, and Tarn’s voice wasn’t helping him much, “I don’t need stories like that to-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the tank picked him off the sofa. Not an unfamiliar action, Tarn seemed to enjoy picking him up from time to time, perhaps enjoying a reminder of how much smaller the jet was then him; but it still took him by surprise. Tarn wasn’t holding him for long however. He swiftly sat down on the sofa, placing the jet delicately in lap facing him.

“You don’t hm?” Tarn’s voice took on a deeper, more sultry tone all together, “Is that why you’re so excited?” Making a soft noise of amusement at Pharma’s noise of indignation, he continued, servos moving steadily down the jet’s slim frame, “If I had known you were interested in being tied down well…think of all the fun we could’ve been having.”

“N-No I...T-Tarn I…” he tried to protest, whilst also arching into those all too experienced digits, “Don’t really…no…hnng…not that…”

“Oh?” the tank didn’t sound disappointed in the slightest, eagerly teasing the seams in the flier’s waist, “Then what do you like?”

Coherent thought was becoming more and more difficult for the jet. Fliers had naturally sensitive frames, and Tarn was an expert with his frame. Blushing even darker if it were possible, he let out a ragged moan, biting on his lower lip to feel the growing wetness behind his panel.

“Come now, no need to be shy, not anymore,” Tarn pressed his forehead to Pharma’s, his gaze hungrily fixed on the medic’s bright blue optics with such intensity, he felt as though the only thing in the world was his lover, “What is it you want, Pharma?”

“I want…” Tarn was hardly helping Pharma string words together, his servo finally reaching the jet’s interface panel. Pharma’s digits curled, digging into the armour of the tank’s chest as his intakes hitched, “More…please.”

“Then open for me,” the tank practically purred at the response, rubbing that heated panel harder, “Show me how much you want it.” Pharma eagerly complied, his panel opening and sliding up with a click. Instantly lubricants covered the DJD commander’s servo. Tarn looked down, engine revving hard at the sight of that familiar but oh-so-wanting valve. With a gentle ease, he pushed a digit upwards, letting it sink inside the jet’s welcoming port with a soft sigh of arousal, “ _Pharma_ …” Tarn felt that delicious valve contract around his digit as he moaned the flier’s name, and he couldn’t help but push a second in.

“D-Don’t tease me,” Pharma growled, wings shuddering as he unconsciously rocked into the tanks digits, “Just f-rag me…hard...” Ruby optics flashing with need, Tarn needed no more encouragement than that. Pulling his digits from the other’s valve, he let his own interface panel slide open, his spike already pressurized and desperate to be inside his smaller lover. Having Pharma squirming and moaning in his lap tended to do that to him.

Moving his servos to Pharma’s hips, he guided him down onto his spike, trying not to shut off his optics as he finally felt the snug wet heat of his valve hug his spike. It was well worth the effort, Pharma leaned back slowly as he was impaled, wings splaying and mouth opening to make some of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.

Once he was fully seated on his spike, Tarn let his hips go, choosing to paw at his wings instead, “T-Tarn…yes…” The jet arched eagerly into those wandering digits, his own settling on the sensitive treads of his tank, “I want you…”

“Then have me…” Tarn all but purred as those talented digits curled and slid across his treads, “My doctor…” Pharma didn’t hesitate, eagerly lifting his hips nearly off his lover’s spike, before slamming back down hard enough to make them both moan in tandem.

It didn’t take them long to work up a good pace. No words were exchanged for a while; they weren’t needed, not anymore. Pharma keened and mewled in Tarn’s lap, the fluttering of his wings as he got closer and closer to his overload mesmerising the tank. He didn’t often confess it (Primus knows the medic’s ego was large enough), but Pharma truly was beautiful. The sounds he made, the way his wings twitched and arched in his servos, the feeling of his valve around his spike…

Pharma’s optics finally met his, the intensity of the gaze making his spike twitch deep inside the jet. How could something that started so simply turn into something this consuming. No matter how much he took, he wanted more. No matter how often they were together, it wasn’t enough. Pharma was a whole new addiction for him, even now, even after years of this.

“Tarn…I’m-..I…” he didn’t need to be told, he could feel how close the other bot was, the rhythmic clenching of his valve starting to get a little more sporadic as the jet desperately increased in pace on his spike.

“I know,” his voice was deep, and so full of possessive desire, and it made Pharma’s spark skip a beat. He needed this. He hated how much he needed it, but he needed it none-the-less. He felt the other’s servos leave his wings, one moving back to his waist as the other cupped his cheek in a surprisingly affectionate gesture, “Do it…hmm…overload…for me.” Trying and failing to contain the desperate bucking of his own hips, the tank’s grip on his waist tightened, “Overload, _Pharma_ …for me.”

Hearing Tarn utter his name…with that voice…the medic couldn’t hold back any longer.

Tarn watched the medi-jet overload, hungry optics savouring perhaps one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever known. His wings splayed, turbines running at full as sparks of energy snapped across his frame, the Pharma’s valve clamped down around his spike, lubricants rushing out and soaking the already glistening spike below him. He wasn’t far behind him, with a few more frantic bucks into his valve he felt his transfluid flooding the flier’s valve as he roared his completion.

Neither wanted it to end, but soon enough the bliss faded out in waves, Pharma sagging against the other and panting. That’d been intense…extremely intense. Tarn seemed to agree, his own vents running over time to try and cool his large frame back to a reasonable temperature. They both knew what was coming next, and Tarn’s arms unconsciously moved around the jet, not too tightly, but at the same time unwilling to let go.

“Stay,” it wasn’t a question, a statement or an order. Pharma would almost have called it a plea, but Tarn didn’t do pleas. It was rare for Pharma to linger after they’d…finished. He’d clean up and leave as quickly as possible, but tonight, he found he really didn’t want to. For once he couldn’t make himself think of Delphi, or the consequences. All he could think of was what he wanted, and this…right now, was what he wanted.

“Yes.” And he allowed himself a small smile of contentment as he relaxed into Tarn’s chassis, the tank’s engine purring in tandem with his own as his powerful arms tightened possessively around him.


End file.
